


Yeah, Yeah. The Iceman Can Catch A Cold.

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Canon, Care, Crushes, Dinner, Domestic Fluff, Early Days, Feelings, Fluff, Gay Jokes, Iceman has a cold, M/M, Maverick won’t admit that he cares, One-Sided Relationship, Wandering eyes, Worry, coughs and colds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 22:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: Iceman has been drifting recently but he can’t purely be annoyed when Maverick shows up to check in on him.





	Yeah, Yeah. The Iceman Can Catch A Cold.

**Summer 1986:**

“Ice, hey Ice. Open the damn door.” Maverick belted, fist colliding with Iceman’s front door.

He groaned, clutching at his blanket, as Iceman peeled himself away from his plush leather sofa. Opening the door he squinted, the Miramar sunset piercing the darkness of his front room.

“Why are all the blinds drawn? I know you’re always cold and all so, wouldn’t you want some damn sunlight in here? Or is that going to melt you?”

“Shut up, Mitchell.”

Maverick’s eyes widened, he hadn’t expected Iceman to answer back with such vehemence. He saw him sniff, rub at his nose and then he stared him down.

“Why are you-“ Iceman coughed. A real one: not some bullshit into his hand, for once, “-doing here?”

Maverick brushed past him and stalked through the hallway into Iceman’s poorly lit living room.

“Mitchell?”

“You alright, man? You were meant to be meeting us for Volleyball today and you blew off drinks last night.”

Iceman’s eyes, they looked tired and heavy, focused onto his silhouette.

“And turn on the light. Unless you really are a vampire.” Maverick barked, as he flicked the switch. Iceman hissed, squinting as he fell back upon his sofa.

“_Vampire_. Were you? You, the infamous Iceman asleep? You need human shit like sleep? During the day? Christ man, learn to live a-“ Iceman sneezed and Maverick shut up. “Ohhh.”

“Yeah Mitchell, oh.”

“You have a cold, huh?”

“Something like that, wait why are you.. Don’t say it.”

Maverick was laughing, clutching at his stomach as his laughs grew wilder.

“Mitchell.” Iceman ground out, “I mean it.”

“It’s just.. I can’t, can’t even..” He cut himself off with a hiccup, “The Iceman.. Stone cold _Ice_-man, has a fucking cold! That’s.. hilarious.”

“Yeah, yeah. The irony and all.” Iceman flipped him off and wrapped himself in his blanket.

“Shouldn’t you be used to the cold?”

“Maverick.”

“Bet you don’t feel a damn thing.”

“Maverick.”

“C’mon Ice.. cold man. Get a grip, you’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

“_Maverick_” Iceman belted, his voice cracking. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

Maverick began to chuckle again, eyes firmly on Iceman: his fever flushed cheeks, the dazed look in his hazel eyes. The scowl, somehow even more distinct than usual. Iceman.

“What are you even doing here anyway?”

Maverick hesitated, he cocked an eyebrow. “I told you. You didn’t show up to planned shit and you, Kazansky, are never one to just not show without us all knowing.”

“Slider knows.”

Maverick blanked, “yeah well-“

“I told Hollywood I wouldn’t come out, as I’m in that infectious stage still.”

“Okay and-“

“-Germaphobe Mav-_erick_?” He hit the last syllable hard and Maverick shivered, slightly.

“Not really.”

“Mitchell, I’m really not down for mind games. My fever was off the damn scale, my nose is blocked to hell and back and I generally feel like shit. Just tell me, why in the fuck are you here?”

Maverick fidgeted.

“Maverick?” His voice was small. Iceman nodded to the tissue box atop of the coffee table and Maverick perched atop of it.

“I meant, asshole, could you pass me-“

“-oh, right.” Maverick clutched what was left of the tissue box.

He handed it to Iceman who shivered slightly, their fingers had brushed. Only a small motion but Iceman, smiled before he sneezed into his tissue. His hazel eyes found Maverick again.

“If you won’t say _it_, get the hell out.”

“Say what, Kazansky?”

“You know damn well-“ He paused, coughed some more then, “ -damn well what, Mitchell.”

Even spluttering like he was, his slightly more wretched than usual voice had enough of his usual bitchy tone that Maverick stuttered.

“Mitchell.” Iceman’s voice dropped to a mere whisper, he shook Maverick from his stupor.

Maverick didn’t say anything.

”_Pete_.” His green eyes widened. He had never heard Iceman use his name, his real name, before. It sounded strange but strangely right at the same time.

“You know my name?”

“What? Of course I... _Pete Mitchell this is.._ wait. Don’t tell me you don’t remember my first-“

”_Tom_.”

”Kudos. Now, Mitchell, out with it.”

“Okay, Okay. Perhaps I.. I was…”

“Was?” 

“Worried about you, dick.” His words flowed quicker than before, as Maverick turned himself away.

Iceman was smirking, he sneezed again then resumed his smirking.

“Aww, Mav. How sweet.”

“_Faggot_.” Maverick mumbled.

“What was that?”

Maverick straightened up, looking sheepish as he stared into Iceman’s knowing gaze.

Iceman’s red eyes had darkened, heavier on Maverick’s figure than before. He winked and Maverick inwardly cursed, knowing Iceman had heard him.

“So.. you, Pete Mitchell, _care_ about me then?” Iceman’s voice was teasing, he let it linger.

Maverick blushed. His eyes darted about the room.

Iceman began to laugh, “yeah..” He sniffed again, “yeah, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“It’s just funny that’s all-“

“-Sure, sure yeah, the Iceman has a cold..”

Maverick looked hopeful at the sudden light in Iceman’s tone.

“Grow up.”

That hope faded.

Their eyes locked, Maverick shifted uncomfortably.

“Can you at least get me some water or something? Considering that I’m ninety-nine percent sure that you won’t leave.”

“Just water?”

“There are some soup cans in the cupboard above the sink if you’re feeling-“ he sneezed again, “shit, if you’re feeling _charitable_.”

Maverick made a non-committal noise. Iceman rolled his eyes.

“Screw it” He rose from the coffee table, heading straight for Iceman’s kitchen. “Chicken or vegetable?” Maverick yelled.

Iceman smiled to himself, “Vegetable and don’t you even think about spitting in it.”

“Why would I.. it wouldn’t do any harm.”

“Don’t want to get more ill-“

“-Fuck you, Kazansky.” Maverick was still out of sight.

“Yeah, maybe when I’m better.” Iceman sounded defeated, he mumbled to himself. “Someday, yeah.”


End file.
